


It's Time

by AliceMarylin1999



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Death, Drugs, Euthanasia, Gen, House Being House, Poor James Wilson (House M.D.), Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMarylin1999/pseuds/AliceMarylin1999
Summary: The day Wilson decided he's ready to go.Post-Season 8.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	It's Time

“Are you sure it’s the real thing?”, Wilson asked weakly, raising his head from the pillow.

“Unless you want me to test it on someone else first, I assume there’s no way to know until it’s done”, House said grimly. He was sitting on the chair, opposite to Wilson’s bed, and the bleak light from the outside seeped into the room.

“If it doesn’t work, and I won’t die in due time, use a pillow”, Wilson went on. “I have no intention of dealing with intoxication in this kind of… State”

“Suffocation will be painful even if you’re unconscious”, House answered, frowning. “And I have very little experience in smothering people with pillows. That time with my grandma doesn’t count, I was high…”

“You have to”, Wilson insisted. “It will be fine. I’m in enough agony already, it’s only going to get worse”. Wilson paused. “Do you have a gun?”, he asked.

House shook his head.

“Maybe you should buy one”, Wilson said. “We still have money”

House shut his eyes in pain and covered his head with his hand.

“The injection will work”, he said in a harsh voice. “I double-checked the guy. All his customers are terminal patients, he’s been peddling the stuff for years”

“There is still a bag option”, Wilson said. “I know your objections, but it does work. Trust me on this. People do this in many countries, it is proven to be painless and…”

“I’m half ready to smother you right now so you just stop with this “Newest Euthanasia Developments 2012” speech”, House snapped. “You’re not gonna wake up after the injection. How and why is none of your business”

Wilson fell silent for a moment.

“What about you?”, he asked quietly. “Will you run?”

House turned away.

“You need to take my money and run”, Wilson continued. “You still can try, at least try, to buy a new ID”

“I’d do great working in retail and living in a trailer”, House answered sarcastically. “I can’t wait for you to die so I can start my new happy life as Mr. Douchebag somewhere in Nebraska”

“If you stay here, you’re probably gonna die in prison”

“I’m sure the jury will be sympathetic. All I did was fake my own death, forge a dozen documents, buy a shitload of heroin and black-market lethal injection substances and kill a man in cold blood”

“You just tried to help a friend in great pain”, Wilson argued. “Everyone knows how is it with terminal patients in this country…”

“Seems like your brain is already dead”, House cut him off harshly. “I’m starting to consider a gun option”

“Fine”, Wilson sighed. “I won’t be able to stop you even if I wanted to. Just tell me what you’re gonna do once I’m done. Just so I know”

“Since I’m not thrilled about either prison OR running, my options are somewhat limited”, House said dryly.

“Okay”, Wilson murmured. “I’m sorry it came to that”. He paused. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever gonna be”, House answered.

“I’ve been sleeping too much lately”, Wilson said dreamily, his tone finally lightening. “And I started to wish I won’t wake up. I haven’t dreamed of Amber for years already, but the last few days she started to seem so real whenever I fell asleep and it felt so… So wonderful”

House didn’t answer.

“You know, four years ago, when she died”, Wilson went on. “I was terrified of growing old without her. If she stayed alive, we’d probably be married by now, maybe even have kids, and then my cancer… As awful as it sounds… I’m somewhat glad she didn’t go through what I’ve been through then”. He paused and threw a glance at House, who was staring on the floor with his head down. “What you’re going through now”

House raised his head and looked him in the eyes.

“Amber didn’t suffer”, he said softly.

“But I did”, Wilson replied, his eyes shining with tears. “I had to decide when to… When to…”

“I’ll do it”, House said and moved from the chair to the bed. He sat on the corner and took a medical bag from the little table near it. “You don’t have to torture yourself with this decision”

“It’s way harder than it seems”, Wilson said with a trembling voice, tears running down his face. “Your hand just won’t listen to you”

“Stop reliving Amber’s death!”, House snarled angrily. “It’s about you now. Don’t you dare plague your last moments with all this suffering. That’s not what she wanted and not what I want”

“You’re right”, Wilson said so weakly it was hard to make sense of what he said. “Thank you for all this. I came to believe it’s only right that it was you who took care of me in the end. You and I… It’s the longest and strongest bond I’ve ever had”

“You deserved much better than this”, House said bitterly. “Better than me”

“What you did for me is more than anyone out there could hope for. I am, I mean I was, a lucky man. I had Amber and I had you. You cared for me and you loved me and you were there when it was most important. All your screw-ups don’t matter anymore. I already forgot them”, Wilson smiled, visibly struggling. “It’s time. I want to go while I’m still in my right mind”

House was preparing the syringe silently, without as much as twitching muscle on his face. He put it on the table carefully and picked the belt, tightened it around Wilson’s arm and watched how he clenched and unclenched his fist. As he traced a vein, he picked up the syringe and drew it close to it. He paused and looked at Wilson.

“Go on”, Wilson encouraged him. “Do it”

House felt his hand weaken, as he dropped the syringe on Wilson’s arm, and found his vision blurred by tears. He quickly picked it up, put in on the table, and closed his face with both hands.

“I told you it’s hard”, Wilson whispered. “It’s the hardest thing. But you have to do it for me. Now. I’m dipping into this… Fog… I don’t, I don’t want to drown hallucinating”

House lowered his head on Wilson’s chest, suffocating with sobbing.

“I will pick it up”, he struggled to say, with his shaking voice. “A second, just a second. I won’t let you slip into madness, it’s just… I just… I couldn’t…”

“I know. I’ve been there”, Wilson whispered. “But you have to. I want to go. I want to go now. I’m ready. Do it. Goodbye, House”

House raised his head and grabbed the syringe back. He took Wilson’s arm, and without a moment of hesitation, shot all the substance in his vein. As he put the syringe away and watched Wilson close his eyes with a weak sigh, he lowered his forehead on his friend’s chest and wept silently, as he listened to his decreasing heartbeat. He was somewhat thankful for being in deep shock and mourning because he didn’t even notice agony or all the other things that come with it. The minutes seemed eternal and never-ending, and House couldn’t tell when he came back from the bleak and dark oblivion, but as he stopped crying for a moment he felt Wilson’s chest completely still. There was no breath and no heartbeat. He was dead.

The time has come.


End file.
